


A Proper Celebration

by YellowBananaOwl



Series: The Dancing Series [1]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Pre-MJN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBananaOwl/pseuds/YellowBananaOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Arthur bump into each other at a bar, long before Martin starts working at MJN. First meeting fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proper Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story as a part of the letscreatecabinpressure challenge in May 2014, but I never finished it. The prompt was: A look into the past of one or all of the cabin crew before they became MJN Air. Bonus: Write about an instance where members of the crew met each other– a brief encounter that they forget (or do they?) by the time they come to work together at MJN.
> 
> Characters belong to John Finnemore.

“Arthur, darling, get us some more drinks.”

The group of girls around her cheered.

“Righto, Pobs,” said Arthur. “But _then_ can we dance?”

“Maybe,” Pobs looked at her girlfriends and giggled.

Arthur sighed, put on a brave smile, and walked towards the bar. 

Pobs had told him they would go dancing, and this had made Arthur terribly excited. They hadn't been out in ages, and he had been really looking forward to it. But so far Pobs had only been talking with her friends all evening, and Arthur had been sat next to them, bored out of his mind. The only dancing he had been able to do had been on his way to the bar for another round of drinks. He was even beginning to get a bit sick of pineapple juice, and as much as Arthur loved talking, they always seemed to change the topic whenever he said something. 

This evening was not brilliant at all.

He made it to the bar and was, once again, completely ignored by the bartender who was busy serving the pretty ladies, for a _very_ long time.

Arthur watched the people on the dance floor and wondered if he should just dance by himself for a while, when all of a sudden a man bumped into him. Arthur stumbled and knocked over a man sitting on one of the bar stools.

“Oi! Watch it!”

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said and offered a hand to help the man up. “Someone bumped into me, so I bumped into you, and you bumped into your drink, and then you fell down. It was like dominoes.”

“And now my clothes are soaked and sticky.” The man rose from the floor without accepting Arthur’s help, and started to wipe his now very wet trousers. He seemed really upset.

“I’m really sorry,” Arthur repeated. “I just wanted to do a little dance while I was waiting. The bartender never sees me.”

“Tell me about it,” sighed the other man. “I waited nearly forty minutes for this pint. And now it’s all over me.”

“Sorry,” said Arthur. “I’ll buy you a new drink. I would offer you a washing machine too, but I don’t really have one here since a washing machine isn’t really something you carry around with you. It would also be too big to carry around, and how often do you really need a washing machine on you? Well, maybe it wouldn’t be too stupid since I sometimes spill the drinks onboard GERTI, but - “

“Ok, I get the idea,” interrupted the bloke. “I think I’ll just go home. I’m not really in a celebratory mood anyway.”

“Oh, were you celebrating something? “ Arthur perked up. “I love celebrations. And parties. What are you celebrating?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the man. “I’m going home. It was pathetic to think tonight would be anything special.”

“No, don’t go!” said Arthur. “I’ll buy you a proper celebration drink. One with those little umbrellas in it, and maybe one of those sparkly fire things too. You can’t go home without a proper celebration!”

The man gave Arthur a vague smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Brilliant!” Arthur leaned over the bar and called out to the bartender as loudly as he could. “HEY! We are celebrating here! Can we get a big drink with sparkly things and one big pineapple juice?”

The bartender looked at him with a confused expression, but started to make the drinks.

“So, where are your friends,” Arthur turned to the stranger. 

“I came alone,” he replied.

“What? Alone? Well, it’s a good thing I knocked you over then,” said Arthur. “No one should be celebrating alone.”

“I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with, so I went alone. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Arthur. “I just thought celebrations were something you shared with your friends and family.”

The other man huffed.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. Let’s just drink our drinks and get this over with.”

“Okay,” said Arthur and handed the monstrosity of a glass to the stranger. “Wow, that is even more brilliant than I expected. It makes my pineapple juice look kind of boring.”

The bartender put an umbrella in his glass and Arthur grinned. “Brilliant!” He turned to the other man.

“Here’s to - I don’t even know what we’re celebrating.”

“My CPL.” said the man. “I’m now officially a pilot. Not that anyone cares.”

“A PILOT?” Arthur screamed, making the man jump and spill a good part of his drink again. 

“Oh, come on, “ said the pilot. “Again?”

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur grabbed a handful of napkins and began to dry the man’s trousers.

“I can do that myself, thanks,” said the pilot and pushed Arthur’s hand away.

“But seriously? A pilot? That’s brilliant! Mum has a plane. I love flying!”

“You’re a pilot too? You don’t really seem like one.”

“No, I’m a steward. Well, not officially, but I help Mum sometimes. And I do have my own hat.”

“Why, of course you need a hat,” chuckled the man and threw the used napkins on the bar.

“Exactly. But we need to celebrate this! This is brilliant!” Arthur raised his glass. “Here’s to you - er, what’s your name?”

“Martin.”

“Here’s to Martin, the pilot!”

They clinked their glasses, and Martin smiled at Arthur’s last sentence. He took a sip of his drink while Arthur beamed and took a huge gulp of his, the umbrella almost poking him in the eye.

“Was it good?” Arthur asked and nodded at Martin’s drink? “It looks brilliant! I’m Arthur, by the way.”

“Not my usual liquid, but it was nice,” Martin confirmed. “Do you want a sip?”

“No thanks, this is your night and your drink! Besides, I’m the hesitated driver. Now, what else can we do to celebrate? Oh, I know! Let’s dance!”

“I’m not a dancer,” Martin stated firmly.

“You don’t have to be a dancer to dance! I know, I’ll tell the DJ to put on something celebration-y.”

“Don’t you dare!” Martin grabbed Arthur’s arm before he had a chance to run off to the DJ. “I don’t want to dance.”

“Ok,” said Arthur, his voice filled with disappointment. He had really hoped that Martin the pilot would dance with him, because he felt really silly doing it alone now that they were celebrating.

The two men sat at the bar for a little while. Arthur was trying to come up with celebratory things that Martin would agree to, but it was difficult when he hadn’t had time to prepare anything. 

“If I had known about this earlier I would have made you a cake. Or a banner. A brilliant banner with little airplanes on it,” Arthur sighed.

“It’s not your fault,” Martin said. “You don’t even know me, and I don’t want a banner, or a cake.”

“How could you _not_ want a cake? Cakes are brilliant!”

Martin chuckled. “Yes, cakes are brilliant, but you can’t go around with a cake in case you meet a stranger who’s celebrating something.”

“That’s true. It might go bad. Or I might drop it. And I would have to have lots of different decorations with me at all times, because I would never know what that person is celebrating. It would be a bit odd if I had a cake with ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ written in big green letters to celebrate you becoming a pilot. Or a cake full of planes and then meeting someone who just got promoted as a train manager.”

“I can’t argue with that,” said Martin and finished the last of his drink.

“Oh, let me get you another one!” Arthur jumped up from his seat.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Martin.

“I have an idea!” Arthur leaned over the bar and called out for the bartender. “Hey! Can I get another brilliant celebration drink for my friend, Martin? HELLO? WE ARE CELEBRATING”

The bartender tried to ignore him, but Arthur was persistent and didn’t stop waving his twenty pound note until the bartender came over. When he did, Arthur climbed up on the bar foot rail, leaned as far across the counter as he possibly could, and said something to the bartender.

Arthur was given a piece of paper and a pen, and the bartender disappeared in the back for a bit. Arthur quickly turned his back so Martin wouldn’t see what he was doing. The bartender returned a few minutes later and nodded at him.

“Brilliant!” Arthur exclaimed and handed the paper back to the bartender before Martin could see what it was. He returned to his seat. “Your drink will be here soon.”

“Thanks,” said Martin. “But you really didn’t have to -”

“I know, but I wanted to.” Arthur smiled at his new friend. "Oh, I just had an idea. You know those party whistle blowy things?"

"Yeah?"

"Those are pretty easy to carry around. Much easier than a cake or a banner."

"Or a washing machine."

Arthur laughed. "Definitely. And then I'll be ready for celebrations everywhere. I'll buy one tomorrow."

Martin’s drink arrived a few minutes later along with a muffin with a candle on it.

“Congratulations,” said the bartender and shoved the plate with the muffin in front of Martin.

“What’s this?” Martin asked.

“Surprise!” cheered Arthur. “It’s sort of a cake. Well, it’s the closest we could get on such short notice.”

Martin started laughing. “Thank you, Arthur, was it?”

Arthur nodded.

“You are truly remarkable at celebrations.”

“Thank you! Celebrations are one of my absolute favourite things, but Mum says I tend to go a little bit overboard sometimes.”

Martin took regular sips of his drink while the two of them shared the muffin and chatted enthusiastically. He didn’t object to Arthur buying him yet another one drink when his second one was empty. Arthur wasn’t trying to get him drunk like Mister Birling, it was just that Martin was fun to hang out with, he knew lots of interesting facts about aeroplanes and about flying, and Arthur didn’t want him to go home. The night was finally getting quite fun. That was until Arthur heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Arthur, what are you doing?”

“Pobs?”

“You were supposed to bring us drinks.”

“Sorry, I forgot. Pobs, this is Martin. Martin, this is Pobs.”

“I didn’t know you were here with someone,” said Martin and waved hesitantly to Pobs who merely shot him a disgusted look in return.

“Are you coming back to us, Arthur? We’re getting thirsty.”

“But Pobs, we are celebrating! Martin just got his flying licence!”

“Oh, God, no more plane talk, please!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with planes?” Martin interjected.

“Come on, Arthur. Let’s get back to the others,” Pobs took Arthur’s hand and tried to pull him with her.

“I think I'll stay here with Martin, actually,” Arthur withdrew his hand and sat down on his stool.

“What?”

“We’re celebrating,” Arthur informed. “And we were just talking about dogs! Did you know that Martin had a dog when he was a little boy?”

“I don’t care about his stupid dog,” said Pobs. “Come on!”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No,” Arthur repeated. “I’m staying here with my new friend.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes.”

Pobs crossed her arms over her chest. “Then this relationship is over, Arthur! If you prioritise a random stranger over me, then I don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Okay, bye.”

Pobs gasped, but turned on her heel and headed angrily back to her table. Martin gaped at Arthur.

“Did you just … break up with your girlfriend ‘cause of me?”

“Maybe a bit. Well, not because of _you_ you, but because it’s much more fun hanging out with you.”

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to ruin anything -”

“You’re not ruining anything, Martin.” Arthur put a friendly arm on his shoulder and grinned. “Come on, let’s dance!”

“No, no, no, no, no, absolutely not! I don’t dance.” Martin grabbed his drink and clumsily started searching for the straw with his tongue.

“Of course you do,” said Arthur, “But I’ll let you finish your drink first.”

“I don’t dance, Arthur. I don’t know how to.”

“It’s super easy, you just jump around to the music and do whatever you feel like. It’s loads of fun.”

“But there are _people_ here.”

“So what? They are dancing, too. No one is really looking at anyone else anyway. Come on, it will be fun. Please? For me?”

Martin sighed. “Fine. _One_ song! _After_ I’ve finished my drink!”

“Hooray!”

Arthur was impatiently waiting for Martin to finish. He had knocked back the rest of his pineapple juice in one huge gulp, and although he knew you shouldn’t do that with alcohol (he had seen that happen with Mr B one too many times, there was a reason Mum always tried to go for the miniatures), Martin was really taking his time with the last drops.

The second Martin took his very last sip Arthur tore the glass out of his hand and slammed it onto the bar. He grabbed Martin’s hand and pulled him down from the bar stool. Martin stumbled and almost fell, but Arthur managed to pull him to his feet before he hit the ground.

“Sorry,” said Arthur. “I just got a bit overexcited.”

“It’s’ fine,” said Martin. “But do I really have to?”

“You promised!”

“I know, but …” Martin moaned.

“I won’t force you, but I think it will be fun. You need to just let go for a bit, and not care about everything you’re worrying about. This is a celebration, remember? You’re a _pilot_! That’s brilliant!”

A proud smile appeared on Martin’s face. “Yeah, I am, aren’t I? I’m finally a pilot. _Finally!_ ”

Arthur grinned. “We should ask the DJ to play something pilot-y.”

Martin laughed. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. There must be loads of songs about flying at least. I’ll be right back!” Arthur was about to storm off to talk to the DJ.

“NO, ARTHUR!” Martin called out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t! Just dance to the next song, whatever it is.”

“I hope it’s a brilliant one. You deserve a brilliant song for your pilot celebratory dance.”

Martin laughed. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t hold too much expectation on this dance if I were you.”

“Stop worrying, Martin. It’s just for fun. Just move to the music. It doesn’t have to be fancy or spectacular or anything. Just have fun.”

“I’ll try,” said Martin. “But don’t you dare leave me alone out here. I’m _not_ doing this alone.”

“Like I ever would.”

They moved to the middle of the dance floor so Martin would be sure that no bystanders were watching. At least this way they were hidden by all the other dancers and Arthur thought it would probably make Martin feel less self-conscious. 

A new song came on and Arthur squealed with delight when he heard that it was Hips Don’t Lie. “Oh, this is a brilliant song!” He grabbed Martin’s hand and started moving his hips. Martin was giggling, but was still stiff as a board. Arthur, on the other hand, put his hand on Martin’s hip and tried to get him to move. “You need to move your hips, Martin. That’s the whole point of dancing, and _definitely_ this song.”

“I can’t dance. I told you that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Hips don’t lie. It’s a scientific fact.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“No it is, I can’t lie either. Just try it.”

Martin sighed, but started moving his feet while trying to match the rhythm of the music. Arthur grinned widely when he saw that Martin started dancing.

“Brilliant! Just keep doing that!” Arthur encouraged.

Martin started to loosen up, and by the second chorus he was actually moving his hips a little. Arthur felt immensely proud of his new friend. He had a feeling this was not something Martin did often, and he was glad he didn’t seem to totally hate it.

“See,” Arthur shouted over the music. “Hips definitely can’t lie. This is fun.”

Martin smiled back. “It's a bit, actually.”

“Hooray! Now it’s a proper celebration! Twirl for me, Skipper.”

Martin’s face went a bit red, but Arthur could see a smile forming on the other man’s face. He held out his hand for Martin, and the pilot accepted it and did a little twirl. Arthur cheered and Martin did a second twirl in honor of the response.

“I knew you’d be brilliant at it if you only tried,” said Arthur as the song came to an end. “Oh, that was a great celebratory song, I’m just sad it’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” said Martin with a questioning smile. 

“What? But the song is over. You said one song.”

“I know what I said,” Martin interjected. “But I wouldn’t mind one more.”

“You wouldn’t?” Arthur beamed. “Oh, brilliant! Now what’s this song? I don’t think I know this one, so I don’t know if it has any hips in it, but you can absolutely still move them. You’re really good at that. YEAH, look at you moving your hips like a proper pilot!”

“I don’t think hip movements are typical pilot qualities, but okay.”

“Sure it is," Arthur stated. "Pilots have to be brilliant at everything, I’m sure that includes hip movements.”

Martin shook his head, but smiled, then started to move around on the dance floor. Arthur followed, and soon they had moved to the edge where they were clearly visible to anyone sitting at the tables. Martin, however, didn’t seem to care, and Arthur was amused by the looks Pobs and her friends gave them. 

One of the other dancers suddenly bumped into Martin, and he fell forwards. Arthur managed to grab him before he fell over, and Martin was hanging awkwardly in his arms for a few seconds before he managed to stumble to his feet.

“Are you okay?” Arthur wondered.

“What an idiot,” mumbled Martin and tried to straighten up. His hands were still clutching around Arthur’s arms and he was still swaying a bit. “I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy. That last drink must be kicking in.”

Arthur stood completely still, waiting for Martin to regain his balance. A few moments later, Martin finally looked up and smiled. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” said Arthur. “We don’t want you to fall over again. I mean, once was enough.”

“More than enough.”

Arthur could still feel Martin’s hands cling to his arms and he smiled. Martin looked up at him, but he still didn’t move. Arthur wondered if he still had problems standing up and decided, just in case the man would tumble over and fall again, that he wouldn’t move until Martin moved first. 

He didn’t know how many minutes they had been standing like that, Martin looking up at him, not moving, but Arthur thought it had been at least three songs since the stranger had bumped into them. Finally, he leaned down to ask if Martin was okay.

“Are you sure you’re -mmph.”

His sentence was muffled by a pair of wet lips. Arthur got so confused he took a step back, making Martin stumble. Arthur managed to catch him again, but Martin gathered himself immediately and let go. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - oh my God, I don’t know what I - I have to go.” Martin stormed away.

“No, you don’t have to - where are you going?” Arthur called after him, but Martin was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
